


Tension

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: D/s, Dominance and Submission, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is about as tense as he can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta [kholly](kholly.livejournal.com)!

It's when Martin all but _snarls_ at him for as much as suggesting that he not do the landing today, that Douglas realises that _it_ is way overdue; _it_ being what he has silently christened Martin's and his _special time_.

It's not a silly euphemism for some harmless fun in bed, quite on the contrary. Martin and he aren't some old-married couple sending the children to their grandmother's to snatch thirty minutes of quiet for a quick shag. No - their _special time_ is something way more important and intense than their regular sex and Douglas takes it very, very seriously.

"Martin," he says in a deliberately quiet voice, after a very rough landing that has their latest passenger mutter and curse. "Martin, I think you need some downtime."

Martin's knuckles are white where they're still clutching the yoke and after a tense exhale, Martin turns his head to look at him. His eyes, Douglas notices, are suspiciously bright, his face pale.

"Yes," Martin croaks, sounding weak and overwhelmed and quite a bit lost. "I think I do."

 

They drive home as soon as possible, Martin curled up on the passenger seat while Douglas maneuvers the car through the traffic, all the while keeping an eye on Martin. The man is still pale, even more so after the dressing-down by Carolyn Douglas had been unable to protect him from, and his head is resting tiredly against the window. His eyes are closed, his hands curled into fists against his thighs.

Martin is about as tense as he can get.

Douglas _really_ shouldn't have post-poned this for such a long time. He's seen the signs of tiredness, had known that business with the van hadn't gone well lately and he doesn't delude himself; Martin would never ask for this by himself. It's Douglas' responsibility to make sure that Martin gets what he needs _when_ he needs it.

It's not that Martin isn't aware of the positive effects of their _special time_ or that he doesn't know how to ask for it - he is simply _unable_ to voice his needs to Douglas. There is something about Martin, something deeply ingrained after years and years of feeling unwanted and rejected, that makes the man think he isn't allowed to have things like this, things that make him feel good and cherished, things that help him calm down and relax.

Deep down, Martin feels like he doesn't _deserve_ to be happy and every time Douglas sees that idea in the way Martin's shoulders curl or his mouth gets that soft twist of sadness, it's like a stab to Douglas' heart.

Feeling angry with himself for seeing and not reacting to the familiar signs earlier, Douglas speeds up the car, uncaring if it'll result in a ticket.

 

It starts as soon as Douglas has unlocked the door and ushered Martin inside.

"Go take a shower," he says calmly and Martin gives Douglas a side-way glance as he nods and slips out of his uniform jacket, his facial expression shy but expecting, a tad wary even.

Whenever they start doing this, Martin seems to wait for the other shoe to drop, for Douglas to stop and tell him that he is fed up with this, that Martin is _too much work_ , not worth it. It's heart-breaking in a way that makes Douglas all the more determined to make this good, to make Martin feel safe and wanted and loved until one day, he will be able to ask for this all by himself.

Douglas, as it turns out, _loves_ Martin. He cares deeply for him, no matter how much he likes to make fun of him on a regular basis, how he laughs and jokes about the way Martin defends his pride and position as Captain.

He watches Martin hang up his uniform jacket, hesitatingly placing the hat on the hall stand before slipping off his shoes and making his way to the bathroom. By now, at least, Martin is confident enough in these surroundings to move around and touch things without sending Douglas worrying glances every five minutes.

Douglas doesn't start undressing until Martin has closed, but not locked, the bathroom door. Swiftly getting rid of his own shoes and jacket, Douglas grabs both his own and Martin's small traveling bag and moves them into the closet further down the hall. Martin won't need any of his things for the rest of the evening.

The water is still running and Douglas can hear Martin curse when something crashes in the bathroom. He's probably dropped the shampoo again, clumsy as he is. Douglas can't help but shake his head fondly, then frowns as the curses turn more colourful.

 _This,_ he thinks, _is_ really _overdue._ But now is not the time to be angry with himself for having neglected Martin. All his attention should and will be focused on tonight.

He hurries up a bit, opening the door to the bedroom and stepping inside. The bed's freshly made, luckily, but the air feels stuffy, so Douglas opens the window for a bit, then proceeds to clean up any unnecessary items and clutter and places a small towel on the chair in the corner for later. He picks a new set of clothes from his wardrobe, places them on the bed for the time being, then leaves to step into the kitchen.

Usually he'd go and make some dinner first, but Douglas is confident that Martin wouldn't be able to enjoy or focus on food for now. He's just so wound-up and tense, Douglas is worried it might actually make him physically sick.

So instead, he opens the fridge to make sure that he doesn't need to pop out really quickly, checking that neither the milk nor the bread have gone off.

When Douglas hears the water turn off and, a few minutes later, the sound of a door opening, he's already tidied up the living room and leans against the door frame when Martin steps out of the bathroom.

Martin is damp and completely naked when he comes to stand in the hall, arms crossed protectively in front of his bare chest. He looks unsure of himself and the situation, and Douglas doesn't take his time to admire Martin's naked form like he usually would. Instead, he smiles at him, an encouraging and warm smile, and beckons Martin close.

"Come here."

Martin hesitates only briefly, then takes the few steps towards the living room door, only to be pulled closer and engulfed in a big embrace. At first, Martin is rigid in Douglas' arms, but as Douglas runs a soothing hand down his bare back, Martin slowly relaxes into him until he's all but snuggling up to the other man.

A tiny sigh escapes him, warm air tickling the side of Douglas' face, and Douglas carefully maneuvers them until Martin is standing on his own again.

"Okay?" he asks him, searching Martin's face for any signs of distress over what they're about to do.

Martin, however, seems happy enough for now, sending Douglas a shy smile. He's far from fully relaxed, but he doesn't seem to be brimming with unrelieved tension anymore, which is more than Douglas had hoped for for the moment.

"Okay," he replies quietly and Douglas can't help but brush a thumb over Martin's right cheek, which is pleasantly flushed from a hot shower and very possibly a naked cuddle in the hallway.

"There's a cushion next to the sofa," Douglas tells him, all the while stroking Martin's cheek. "I'd like you to rest there for a while."

Martin nods against Douglas' hand, clearly reluctant to be the first to break the contact, so Douglas places the faintest of kisses on Martin's forehead before letting go of him completely.

He watches Martin turn and approach the sofa, eyes lingering on the lean lines of his legs and Martin's frankly marvellous arse, until Martin, far from gracefully, sinks down to kneel on the cushion.

He looks up uncertainly, clearly expecting Douglas to join him any second.

"My turn for the shower," Douglas explains, though, and Martin nods tightly in response.

Douglas can see the tension return to his frame almost immediately, the way Martin's shoulders rise and his hands curl around his kneecaps as he realises that he'll have to sit and wait, naked and vulnerable and _alone_.

It can't be helped, though, and Douglas is confident that these brief minutes of loneliness will benefit Martin. He has got to understand that Douglas would never simply leave him like this, just for the fun of seeing Martin worry and suffer. It's a matter of trust, a matter of Martin convincing himself, of _knowing_ that Douglas would never deliberately harm him.

And Douglas can see that Martin understands, because instead of sending him a pleading look, something he does almost unconsciously and is nearly as telling as if he would open his mouth and ask for something, he nods again and even sends Douglas a brave little smile.

Douglas suddenly feels so proud of this man, of the trust he's showing Douglas by giving up control like this, that he has to force himself to turn away and leave instead of rushing towards Martin and showering him with all the love and affection he deserves.

He fetches his change of clothing and undresses quickly and efficiently, not wanting to draw this out any more than strictly necessary. All the while, he thinks of Martin, wonderful, brave Martin who is patiently waiting in the living room, even though he must feel so very tired and worn-out and simultaneously like smashing something, _anything_ , into bits and pieces.

 _Life,_ Douglas thinks grimly as he's rinsing his hair, _has not been good to Martin Crieff._

It is why Douglas is so determined to make _this_ good, something _special_ , every time Martin is in need of this. Because Martin can be ridiculous and slightly annoying and on occasions even more childish than Arthur, but he does not deserve to be miserable or unhappy. In fact, Douglas doesn't know a single person who is more deserving of being loved and cherished than his skinny, awkward Captain.

He grabs his own towel, realising that the rest of Martin's uniform is folded neatly and resting on the edge of the bathtub, right by his crumpled, wet towel. _The state of Martin's life, right there,_ Douglas thinks. Nothing is more important to him than being a pilot and while the rest of his life might be miserable, Martin at least gets pleasure out of flying and pride from being a pilot, the Captain.

Douglas usually isn't the sentimental or philosophical type, but he likes to think that what Martin and he have is the one other thing that can make Martin truly happy.

Shaking his head at himself, Douglas scrubs his hair dry. That's enough with all the heavy thoughts for tonight. All that is important for now is Martin enjoying their time together.

 

Dressed in a pair of comfortable trousers and a soft, short-sleeved shirt, Douglas leaves the bathroom and returns to the living room.

Martin is right where Douglas has left him, though his naked body has kind of slumped to the side a bit so that Martin can rest his head against the sofa's arm rest. As soon as he hears Douglas entering, though, Martin's head snaps up and his eyes immediately seek out Douglas' gaze.

"This tired?" Douglas asks with a fond smile and Martin's right hand comes up to scratch his nose self-consciously.

He's always so very, unusually quiet when they do this and Douglas finds it almost as endearing as his constant bubbling about operation procedures and flying in general.

Sitting down on the sofa, Douglas places a careful hand on Martin's head, slowly starting to massage the man's scalp, fingers carding through auburn curls. Martin immediately leans into the touch, like a particularly demanding cat.

"Just relax," Douglas murmurs and slowly lets his fingers wander until they are working on the tight knots in Martin's neck and shoulders.

Martin soon lets out small noises of appreciation, tiny mewls and sighs that send pleasant tingles through Douglas' body. It's not long until Douglas feels that Martin wants more, more touch, more sensation, so he ceases his attentions and tells Martin to join him on the sofa.

As the man gets up carefully, knees creaking ever so slightly, Douglas notices that Martin is half-hard now and he smiles, knowing that he is doing just the right thing.

He allows Martin to snuggle up to him for a bit, to rub his face against Douglas' clothed chest until he thinks it's enough and gently cups Martin's face, pulling his head upwards.

Their first kiss is more of a peck, chaste and dry, but the next one lasts longer, Douglas carefully nibbling at Martin's lower lip. Soon, Martin's mouth is wet and soft against Douglas and the man is all but sprawling over Douglas, half-sitting in the bigger man's lap as Douglas is thoroughly biting and sucking on Martin's wonderfully pouty lips.

Douglas can feel Martin's increasing hardness against his leg and in turn, his own cock stirs and hardens in anticipation.

One of the best things about this, Douglas quietly admits to himself as their tongues entwine once more, is that pleasing Douglas also pleases Martin and vice versa. In fact, some of the things that make Martin relax the most are things other people would not necessarily connect with calming down or feeling cherished.

Shifting a bit on the sofa, Douglas very deliberately presses his hard-on against Martin's legs, letting him feel how much he is enjoying himself. As they part for air, Douglas does not miss the way Martin's eyes flicker downwards, his tongue poking out briefly as he's clearly eying Douglas' crotch in interest.

"On your knees, then," Douglas tells him firmly and Martin's eyes widen a bit before his mind catches up and he blushes.

It's more of an awkward change of positions than a graceful sliding, but this is Martin, and Douglas certainly hasn't fallen in love without treasuring his insecurity and clumsiness. Besides, the eager look on Martin's face is so much more rewarding than a lack of sharp ends and bones knocking into Douglas' stomach and chest could ever be.

Martin looks wonderfully debauched, naked and slightly sweaty and his lips red and glistening as he kneels between Douglas' legs. After seeking out Douglas' eyes for silent permission, Martin carefully raises a hand to unbutton Douglas' trousers, slipping a hand inside Douglas' pants to free the flushed cock.

For a few seconds, Martin simply seems to enjoy the view and smell, taking a deep breath through his nose before his thumb brushes lightly over Douglas' foreskin until the pink head is exposed, glistening ever so slightly.

Placing a firm hand on Martin's head, Douglas guides Martin forward until he catches on and promptly parts his lips to take the head of Douglas' penis into his warm, wet mouth.

It's heaven, absolute heaven. Douglas has had his fair share of blowjobs throughout his life, but nobody does it quite like Martin. Because Martin is eager, _truly_ eager to suck Douglas' cock, and that kind of enthusiasm cannot be copied by a person who merely does if out of love or courtesy.

Martin's eyes are closed in blissful abandon as he swallows Douglas' cock down slowly, his tongue eagerly exploring the texture, the veins, the musky taste. Douglas' hand curls appreciatively in Martin's hair. He doesn't hold back his pleased moans and sighs, because Martin truly excels at this and why not give him ample proof that Douglas is enjoying this just as much?

Douglas is not the only one moaning, either. Martin is now moving his head back and forth in a steady pace, humming audibly as he applies pressure and friction to the flushed, pulsing flesh in his mouth. Soon, Douglas can feel a familiar tension build up in his stomach at the sight and sound of Martin on his knees, sucking and licking Douglas' cock as if there was nothing better in the world than this.

This, Douglas decides, is how he wants to come tonight. He doubts he'll be up for another round afterward, doubts Martin is fit enough for having a "proper" shag either. Douglas is not as young as he used to be and a fair bit exhausted from their latest trip. And really, Martin obviously loves this, even loves swallowing and tasting Douglas' come on his tongue, Douglas knows. Only the very thought of coming into Martin's perfect mouth makes Douglas' cock harden further.

He tightens his hold on Martin's hair, pushing the man's head closer and closer to the base of Douglas' cock with each rocking motion, and where anyone else would protest or tense, Martin's eyes flutter open and he looks so _grateful_ (and only Martin would be able to look grateful with his mouth full of cock) that Douglas nearly chokes on a hot, tingling surge of affection when he spills his release.

As predicted, Martin swallows eagerly, not in the least fazed by the fact that Douglas hasn't let go of his head, all but forcing him to take every last drop. Instead, when Douglas' hand finally falls of his head, Martin lingers for a few more seconds, nuzzling his nose against Douglas' coarse pubic hair. Then, slowly, producing an incredibly filthy, wet sound, Martin very carefully lets Douglas softening cock slip from his lips.

His face is all but glowing with pleasure as he looks up at Douglas, clearly taking in his reaction and happy with what he sees. Douglas can hardly believe that Martin would do this, would let himself go so completely and simply enjoy himself. It takes a brave man to admit, even without words, that this is what made you feel better, what made you feel relaxed, and Douglas' is touched that Martin trusts him enough to do this, to allow Douglas' taking control in a situation like this when back, at work, having Douglas control the plane is the one thing Martin does _not_ want.

"Perfect," he praises him in a hoarse voice and watches Martin's pleased expression turn into a proper smile. "Simply perfect, Martin."

 

Martin sits back then, after a bit of resting, his own cock hard and prominent between his legs, clearly neglected during his mission to give Douglas the blowjob of his life. Smiling, Douglas nudges the base teasingly with two of his bare toes and Martin inhales sharply at the sudden contact.

"Off to the bedroom with you," Douglas says and Martin obeys, not getting up this time, but crawling towards the hallway.

It's as much part of the general process of these nights as being practical because Martin, Douglas has quickly learned, tends to be even more uncoordinated with his gangly legs when sporting a hard-on. Graceful really isn't a word one would connect with Martin Crieff.

Besides, this way, Douglas can carefully button up his trousers while enjoying another view of Martin's very attractive arse, his balls and cock swinging heavily as he makes his way towards the bedroom on all fours.

Douglas follows suit, not wanting Martin to do anymore waiting. In fact, Martin still deserves a whole lot of attention for being so very good tonight, following Douglas' every lead and slowly unwinding from all the pressure that has been building for the past weeks.

"On the bed," Douglas prompts him when Martin doesn't do so on his own and seconds later, the man is on his back, sprawled over the whole length of the bed.

Douglas is on top of him almost immediately, leading Martin into another set of deep kisses while trailing a hand down Martin's chest, taking his time to brush his thumb over Martin's nipples, making him shiver and moan into Douglas' mouth.

"You're doing so well," Douglas murmurs into Martin's ear eventually, taking a breath from kissing in favour of using his mouth to nibble at Martin's ear. "Look at you, all hard and eager and still, you're doing as I say."

Martin is panting raggedly into Douglas' shoulder and stops breathing when finally, Douglas curls his fingers around Martin's erect cock.

The first few strokes are dry and tantalisingly slow, lacking any kind of proper pressure or friction, and Martin sucks in a harsh breath, only to let the air out in a desperate little moan.

"Please," he whimpers, the first real word he's spoken in a long while, and Douglas places a harsh kiss against Martin's temple when he hears how tight his voice sounds. Most of his body's tension might have slipped away in favour of his arousal, but deep down, Martin still hasn't completely let go for tonight. He's wound-up and tight and there's only one thing Douglas can think of that will help with it.

"I'll fetch some lube," Douglas murmurs soothingly, "and I will slowly stroke you to completion. You will _not_ come until I tell you to. Is that clear?"

Martin only whimpers and Douglas removes his hand all together in favour of placing a sharp slap on Martin's thigh, that makes the man jump a bit but clearly helps him to focus.

"Martin, you _need_ to pay attention," Douglas says. "I said: is that clear?"

Martin nods frantically against Douglas neck and after a quick, rewarding kiss, Douglas moves off the bed and to the nightstand to fetch the bottle of clear lubricant. Warming it quickly between his hands, Douglas eventually is back to looming over Martin's lean and naked body.

The other man is shivering by now, shaking with want and tension, and Douglas catches Martin's half-focused gaze before curling his slick hand firmly around Martin's cock. The first few strokes are so slow Martin actually moves his hips in a desperate need to hurry things up, but Douglas won't have any of it. His strokes stay slow and very deliberate and soon, Martin is a big, whimpering mess beneath Douglas.

And it's wonderful, because all Martin is focusing on now is what he _wants_ and _needs_ , on Douglas' slick hand and rough lips against his cheeks and jaw. It's _perfect_ , it's exactly how this should end, and Douglas smiles as he brushes a thumb over the head of Martin's cock.

"Please," Martin chokes out, "I- I can't- _please_."

"Of course you can," Douglas tells him and continues his movements.

Martin is all but sobbing right now, bucking his hips up and down, trying to get closer, then away, futile attempts to somehow rush this without going against Douglas' wishes.

"Please," he whispers once more, eyes suspiciously wet, face tense with the effort not to come too early. " _Douglas._ "

Douglas makes it two more strokes, not to be cruel but because he knows Martin can take it. Then, he very deliberately licks Martin's ear before telling him to come.

Martin's release is like a tight rope snapping, a dam breaking, maybe. Every single muscle in his body seems to tighten, then relax as he orgasms. Douglas' hand stays on Martin's cock as warm, sticky semen shoots onto Martin's stomach and he leans back a bit to be have a better view, to watch Martin fall apart.

It's beautiful, absolutely so. As his cock is softening, Martin is all but sinking into the mattress. His eyes are half-closed, his forehead bereft of frowns and wrinkles and his hands, previously curled tightly into the sheets, are now simply resting on top of the covers. His face is as far from pale as it can get, flushed and sweaty and glowing with pleasure.

Douglas talks and kisses Martin through the aftershocks until the other man is all but dozing off on top of the bed.

"Let me clean you up a bit, all right?" Douglas murmurs, grabbing the previously positioned towel from the chair near the wardrobe to rub carefully over Martin's flushed skin.

Martin is only blinking lazily, unable or unwilling to look at anything (or anyone) in particular.

"How do you feel?" Douglas asks him eventually, when Martin is mostly clean, tracing one of Martin's pale eyebrows with his thumb.

"Good," Martin murmurs lowly. "Sleepy. Bit hungry."

Douglas smiles.

"Take a nap, then," he tells him fondly. "I'll go and make some food."

He helps Martin under the covers, watching him snuggle into the pillows like a child might have, completely, perfectly relaxed as he slips off into sleep. The sight of it makes Douglas almost stupidly happy.

Shaking his head at himself, Douglas quietly leaves the bedroom, taking a quick detour to the bathroom to dispose of the towel and wash his hands. He's turning into some kind of Arthur, it seems, finding everything to be brilliant and wonderful, at least when it comes to Martin.

It won't be the last time Martin will need this, Douglas knows. There'll be another two weeks without work for the van or a flat tire or a badly-worded comment from a customer that will make Martin tense and worried and unhappy. He'll start over-reacting to Douglas' teasing, will take loosing one of their games to heart, then snap and glare and make wrong decisions he'll later come to regret.

For now, though, Martin is fine, just fine.

Satisfied, Douglas wanders into the kitchen, wondering with what kind of food he might feed up his Captain tonight.


End file.
